


Puncture

by Toryb



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Eventual Smut, F/M, Halloween Month inspired some spooky, Human Betty, Let's solve a murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Serial Killer, Slow Burn, Vampire Jughead, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-15 19:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb
Summary: The latest victim in a string of killings by the notorious Bleeding Beauty killer has been identified today as 16 year old Brian Walker, a high school student from the upper west side set to graduate this Spring. His body was discovered two nights ago in Greenwich by the 9th Street station. Walker is the fourth teenager to be found drained of all blood and with two puncture wounds on his neck. Police continue to be baffled searching for the motivation behind these gruesome attacks. No murder weapon has been found.____Or: Betty is an investigative journalist who wanders into Jughead Jones' late night coffee shop and finds herself in the midst of not only a serial killer investigation, but an underground bureaucracy on the verge of tumbling over.





	1. Along Came a Spider

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my amazing Beta reader and collab partner for the multimedia parts: QueenofBabble. The V to my B. Thanks for encouraging me to actually write this!
> 
> So i've had this vampire Jughead AU stuck in my head for about two months now and finally decided to go for it. The season 2 hype is strong and it's Halloween Month so why not write myself my very own spooky AU. Murder Mysteries, Vampires, and Bugheads, what could be better?
> 
> If you guys like this please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos. Its always nice to hear when people like your work!

**_Breaking News_ **

**_The latest victim in a string of killings by the notorious Bleeding Beauty killer has been identified today as 16 year old Brian Walker, a high school student from the upper west side set to graduate this Spring. His body was discovered two nights ago in Greenwich by the 9th Street station. Walker is the fourth teenager to be found drained of all blood and with two puncture wounds on his neck. Police continue to be baffled searching for the motivation behind these gruesome attacks. No murder weapon has been found._ **

The news scene switches from the anchors, positioned in cozy chairs, to the police chief at the press conference held earlier that day.

**_‘Whoever is behind this is attacking young, redheaded men. We urge all people fitting that description to avoid walking to streets at night alone.’_ **

Blinding cameras, screamed questions from hungry journalists, and then a quick rotation back to the channel’s anchors. The brown haired woman spoke again.

**_Many have voiced speculation. Stating that the link between these cases is tenuous at best and-_ **

Veronica groaned and flipped the television off, “B, honestly I’m tired of listening to this story. It’s all anyone ever talks about at work and all this doom and gloom is making it really hard to enjoy anything.”

The two girls sat in the small living room of their apartment. It barely had enough room to fit the couch they shared and the coffee table, but they had managed to make it work. Despite Veronica coming from less than struggling origins, sharing a space with her best friend couldn’t have been anything but ideal. Betty admired her for that. Even when Mr. Lodge had turned his business around to become legitimate, his daughter refused to take a single cent outside the necessities. Necessities sometimes meaning a television screen that barely fit into their two room flat, but it was progress.

Betty had met Veronica back in Riverdale. Sophomore year she had transferred and needed a tour guide. The two had been nearly inseparable ever since. Except for the time junior year where they’d fought over who would get to go to prom with Kevin, only to find out the answer was Moose. From college roommates to graduated co-workers, B and V were as tight as they came.

But she was still a little annoyed about the television.

“I was watching that!” Betty huffed, taking another bite of her fruit loops. If her mother could see her now, eating breakfast food at 6 PM having yet to change out of her pajamas, she was sure Alice Cooper would have a heart attack.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re hung up on the story because you’re hoping if you jump around and show how interested you are Weatherbee will take pity and offer you the story.”

That...was only mostly true. Sure a chance at her first big investigative article could change her life, but the story itself was fascinating. No clues at the scene, no leads, just four dead teenage boys and counting. Even the city that never slept was starting to grow a little too restless about all this. Someone needed to get to the bottom of it, and the police had already spent four months floundering.

Above all else, she was tired of spending hours fact checking inane things for stories: whatever the latest internet slang was, who had gotten who pregnant, was red really the color most in style this season according to Vogue. Veronica had already had her make or break moment, earning herself a comfortable position in the Fashion and Style department. It was hard not to be jealous of that when they’d been working together for the same amount of time.

“But,” Veronica had gotten serious, something she rarely did. That meant it was time to listen, “You do go on those late night runs all the time around that area right? Promise me you’ll be careful. I know you’re not exactly the demographic this crazy person is after, but it’s better safe than sorry.”

Betty smiled and squeezed her friend's hand, “Thanks V, I appreciate it. But I’ll be fine. I took all those self defense classes in high school remember? Besides, like you said, I’m not exactly the type they’re looking for. And the murders have been happening like clockwork: the first saturday of every month. Whoever it is isn’t going to break their pattern from some blonde reporter walking around just after sunset.”

“Promise me you’ll put the pepper spray Kev got us in your purse if you do go out though? Not just for me. What would NYC do if they lost it’s up and coming investigative journalist!”

They exchange a laugh, but Betty hopes it’s true. That was her dream after all: why she had left Riverdale as fast as she could, despite being offered a comfy position at the Register. Working at the paper her parents owned wasn’t what she’d been dreaming about since getting her first diary. She wanted to find big, earth shattering stories, find the truth about the crazy world they lived in. Covering the elementary school’s latest bake sale wasn’t exactly the same.

“Oh shoot!” Betty stood, running a hand through her hair. She rummaged around for a few things on the coffee table. “I totally forgot I have this deadline coming up for an article and I can’t miss it. I’m supposed to have it turned in by Monday at noon and I haven’t done like any research for it.”

“No research? Elizabeth that’s not like you!” Veronica teased.

No, it wasn’t. But these days it was getting harder and harder to convince herself what Kylie Jenner was having for dinner was a newsworthy piece to spend her time on. Still, this was her job and it payed the bills. For now that had to be enough.

She threw on her clothes quickly, packing whatever she needed into her backpack. Laptop, a few notebooks she had written minimal information in, and red pens to edit everything when it was all said and done. Her best friend offered her one last warning before she left and managed to sneak the aforementioned pepper spray into her bag. Veronica had her own special way of showing she cared.

With how much she traveled for her stories, a metro  card was the smartest thing to get. She hopped on the R train and headed to her favorite cafe. There was hardly ever anyone in there, which made it perfect for hours upon hours of writing. The music wasn’t her favorite and the chairs were always rickety, but it was a nice place to be none the less.

Which made it all the more heartbreaking to see the giant “CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS” sign placed out front. The doors were sealed tightly and the familiar cracked leather booths has been ripped from the corners they originally occupied. It wasn’t the stale coffee she’d miss, but the very fact it was open until four in the morning. When she started writing, it was hard to stop sometimes, and Betty valued a place that wouldn’t kick her out for loitering.

One quick google search later and she was headed in the direction of a place called The Apothecary.

It was an intimidating name, but the pictures online were somewhat inviting. It was open 5 PM to 5 AM, the perfect window for the written word. They sold a few books there, nothing too mainstream, which fit the aesthetic of the place for certain. Most of the yelp reviews were kindly worded: praising the small staff, the fresh coffee, and the atmosphere. There was one near the top that caught her eye.

**_Handsome with a cup of Dark Brew_ **

**_Jughead and his staff are amazing! Jones knows a good tune and a good brew. Plus his broody expression is almost impossible to keep my eyes off of. What can I say? When the owner is the stereotypical tall, dark, and handsome hottie I have a hard time not coming back for more._ **

**_I mean, the cookies he bakes there are pretty good too._ **

With a glowing recommendation like that, and an overall rating of four and a half stars, it was hard not to be intrigued. Thankfully, The Apothecary wasn’t too far away. A few turns and she was directly at the storefront. It was cuter than she expected for such an ominous looking name. Dimly lit, a few quiet people huddled up with laptops or books in comfortable looking arm chairs. Her eyes went directly to the shelf with the “FOR SALE” sign on it. She already has too many books she hadn’t read, but it wouldn’t hurt to browse, even just a bit.

Cain, Lewis, Plath, even a few volumes of Shakespeare's collected works are on the shelves. Mentally, Betty made a list of ones she already owned copies of. It was more a deterrence to make sure she doesn’t repurchase them. She froze in her tracks when she noticed it. _Sweetwater_ by JP Jones. No way! Her favorite all time mystery writer was on the shelves at The Apothecary? It must have been a dream.

Betty had first gotten into his novels her freshman year of college. One had been sitting open at the library and the title snagged her attention immediately.

She reached out and opened to the first page. There it was, the familiar Author’s Note.

**_Based on a real location in Riverdale, NY_ **

It wasn’t every day she found someone referencing her little town. Most people couldn’t even find it on a map, but whoever this man was knew all about the iconic river: where relationships met harsh ends and college kids got so drunk they could barely walk straight.

She had spent the day in the library, too focused on the book in her hands to do much school work. It was impossible to find anywhere to buy. Amazon, Barnes and Noble: she nearly bought the world’s supply of JP Jones books, but not a single place carried his debut novel.

Except for here.

“Excuse me?” Betty turned to the man at the counter.

This guy must have been the owner, because he certainly fit the careful description left by the Yelp reviewer. Dark hair hidden by a crown shaped beanie, a single curl left exposed. Beautiful bright eyes that turned to meet hers when she broke the silence of the cafe. For a moment, she had to remind herself what breathing entailed.

“Yeah? How can I help you?” his wiped his hands off on the stained apron wrapped around his waist.

“Well I’d like some coffee, but I was hoping maybe I could purchase this from you as well?” she put on her brightest smile, holding the book out to him.

At first the man seemed surprised, like he had forgotten he sold books at his shop. “Really? This guy? His writings a little...stale don’t you think?”

Betty was taken aback immediately. Jones’ writing was far from stale. In fact, it was magical. Whenever the world was too much to bear, she would curl up with a copy of _Living Proof_ and a milkshake in hand and tune out the world. Even though she had every single twist and turn memorized, each page left her aching for more.

“I absolutely disagree! I mean sure sometimes he can get a little wordy, but I think it’s beautiful. He has this amazing way with suspense too. You’re never really sure who the murderer is going to be until the very last second. You’re right there along with the detectives, clueless and lost until...until bam! It all falls right into place!” She blushed crimson. Here she was, practically worshipping the book in her hands to a stranger who didn’t ask.

To her surprise, he just smiled. “He never really does interviews though right? The mysterious author for the mystery novels.”

Betty lamented how little the world knows about him. Even the back of his books were faceless, with minimal information about JP Jones.

“I think it’s kind of poetic though. In a weird way. As much as I wish I could just write him a letter about how awesome it is, I bet he wants some privacy too. He seems like that kind of guy.”

Jughead laughed, shaking his head as he watched her bounce from right foot to left. “Take the book. On the house.”

Her eyes blown wide. “Oh no I...I can’t. It’s your book I should pay for it.”

“Trust me, that thing has been waiting for someone generous enough to come along and take it home. You’re doing me a favor by taking away my junk. I can put something more popular up there in it’s place now,” the way he smiled at her, slightly crooked, made Betty’s heart jump. “I’ll still charge you for the coffee though.”

“Okay fine. You’ve got yourself a deal Mr…”

He shook his head, grimacing. “No Mister. Please. Just call me Jughead. And you are?”

“Betty. Just Betty.”

“Okay Just Betty, enjoy your reading. I’ll bring the coffee out to you in a minute. Just take a seat, I promise I’ll find you.” Before she turned away, she swore he winked.

She felt a little giddy, taking a seat under the old lamp near the back corner of the room. The recliner was comfortable, and there was a small table beside her to place her things on. Her article should have come first. It is due in the morning but...just one chapter of _Sweetwater_ should be okay.

Halfway into the fifth page, Betty saw Jughead coming towards her. He set the cup on her table before turning to leave again. After a moment, she noticed a cookie she hadn't ordered sitting beside the brew, but he’s already gone. Maybe it was silly to assume, since she barely had a conversation with the man, but she got the feeling it was a surprise just for her.

When Betty left at nearly to three AM, she was a little sad. The mysterious owner offered her a wave and she made a silent vow to return sometime soon. Really soon.


	2. A Murder is Announced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter this time but i hope you'll forgive me because next chapter things REALLY heat up. And Our favorite red head makes an appearance (or well, one of them does). As always have to thank my amazing perfect wonderful beta writer QueenofBabble (she's on tumblr too go follow her!) for putting up with my grammar mistakes and convincing me that at some point Jughead and Betty have some fun involving chocolate. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always loved and appreciated!

When Betty and Veronica stepped into the office they were bombarded with the familiar cacophony of a busy newsroom. Editors shouted, interns nearly spilt cups of coffee, and writers scrambled over themselves to finish before deadlines. It was a scene jumping right out of a Superman comic strip and brought a smile to Betty’s lips. There was no place she would rather be at 6 AM on a Monday morning.

“Cooper! Did you finish the fact check?” a burly man grunted, holding out his hand expectantly.

She handed him the files with a brilliant smile. “I also emailed you a copy. But I know you prefer hard, fresh off the presses, print, Smith.”

He nodded, flipping through the pages. After a moment, he seemed satisfied, nodding once and sending her on her way. Veronica groaned and took a sip of the Starbucks she had insisted they make time for.

“How are you so  chipper after staying out all last night making eyes with your favorite shop owner? Bucketface? Was that his name?”

Betty rolled her eyes, dodging one of the terrified college kids attempting to sort a massive filing folder. There was an intense fear in his eyes. She reached out, pointing to the top of the manilla folder stack.

“Sort it by date, author, and column type. It’s easier to find things that way.”

The young man looked up at her, his expression softening into a smile. “Thanks Ma’am. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Her best friend took her arm, pulling her forward in the direction of their desks. B and V, always seated side by side. Normally it was a blessing being beside her best friend, but Betty found herself cursing whatever Lodge strings had been pulled to get them these, despite being from different departments. Once Veronica got her teeth into something, she rarely let go.

“Come on B, you’ve been going to that cafe for the last like two weeks. Tell me about tall dark and broody!”

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “There’s nothing to tell. His name is Jughead, he’s ruggedly handsome, and the owner of a nice place. We don’t even talk that much unless it’s about what books I’m reading or the latest cake he’s baked.”

“I would kill to catch a man like that. Maybe he’ll paint you in chocolate like he does those cupcakes you brought home last week.”

“Be serious!” Betty blanched, turning a brilliant shade of red. She fumbled to find some control, collecting her files and signing into her computer. 

Surely there was an email indicating her next bland research assignment. She could focus on that and tune out Veronica’s silly questions. Though the imagery was tempting. Jughead standing above her, tongue tracing along the more sensitive spots of her neck. Downward, downward, until he was rewarding her good behavior with kisses to her core, praising her for looking so beautiful above him. He would devour her and she would melt in his hands like chocolate. Climbing higher, higher, until she shuddered in release around his long fingers, lost in the sound of his name.

“Wet dreams at work are usually frowned upon,” Veronica broke her trance, a knowing smirk on her face, “But I won’t tell if you don’t.”

She groaned, hiding her face in her hands. Her obsession with the coffee shop boy was reaching Nicholas Spark’s film ridiculous. This wasn’t the first time she’d let her fantasies run wild. Just last night she had slipped her fingers below the pink frilly lace of her panties while her mind wandered to his full lips and stormy blue eyes.

Most of the day was uneventful, the normal hustle and bustle of a busy office. There were questions to be answered, articles to be read, and soon it was nearing the hour of respite. Betty loved her job, she did, but there was only so much fact checking that could be done. She craved more, hungered for the opportunity to prove just how far she could go.

Refreshing her email for the last time that night, her ears perked up when the editor-in-chief sat a file on her desk. 

“S-sir?” she choked out, not daring to reach for the folder now sitting in front of her. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yeah, you can,” his smile stretched to his eyes, “I spoke to Smith today. He said you’ve been working your ass off and deserve a more hard hitting case. I want you to take the Bleeding Beauty story. Our last writer on the job quit a few days ago and I need someone to take over. I think you’re just the girl for the job. I hope you agree.”

Her eyes grew wide, breathe shaking. Here it was: her chance, her moment. All she had to do was finally reach out and take it.

Painted pink nails wrapped around the folder, “You can count on me, Sir.”

“Welcome to the crime beat, Cooper. I expect the first article on my desk by this time next week.” With a wave back in her direction, he walked away.

“Oh my god,” she heard Veronica whisper beside her.

“Oh my god,” Betty echoed, clutching the folder tightly, “This is amazing! I finally did it! This is it! My first ladder rung to the top! And the Bleeding Beauty case? This is some serious stuff. It’s only the most talked about, ground breaking case going on in New York at the moment.”

Looking into her best friend’s eyes, her excitement quickly faded. She did not seem even a fraction as happy. It couldn’t have been jealousy, Veronica loved her job in fashion. All the blood and guts and crime scenes made her squirm. Not to mention it could stain her prada shoes.

“You aren’t happy.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. That was the truth, and the way those brown eyes flickered downward was all the confirmation that she needed.

“B, it’s not that I’m not happy for you. I mean I know how much you’ve been looking for something to really kickstart your career. And yeah this could do that, but it’s also stupidly dangerous!” she reached out and took Betty’s hand, a pleading look on her face. “Whoever this is has killed four people already and the police don’t have a clue who it is except it’s probably maybe a woman. That’s not a lot to go on.”

“You don’t think I can do it,” she pulled back, hurt by the accusation.

“No! No that’s not it at all. I know if anyone can chase this story like their life depends on it I know it’s you. But that’s what I’m worried about. You putting your life on the line just to figure out what’s going on, isn’t something I would put past you. I just don’t want to have to call one of my ex-boyfriends to come lock pick you out of some strangers trunk because you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

She knew Veronica was coming from a good place, a caring place, but it didn’t stop the pain in her chest she felt. This was everything she wanted and there was no one to share this happiness with. Maybe she would call her mom on the way home. It had been awhile since Alice Cooper’s voice graced her ears and she was told what was wrong about her outfit, her job, her living situations, her opinions, and really anything else that came up in casual conversation. Perhaps this story could finally do her mother proud.

“I appreciate it,” Betty took Veronica’s hand and squeezed it, “I’ll be safe I promise. I’ll even carry around that pepper spray when I go out investigating. I’m sure most of today is just going to be stumbling over what little information we have and making timelines.”

The two best friends shared a hug, tight and meaningful.

“I guess that means you won’t be home for dinner tonight. As long as I get a full run down of what happens with you and handsome Jughead.”

“What makes you think I’m going there?” Probably the magnificent blush on her cheeks, but she wasn’t going to point that out.

Veronica rolled her eyes, “Please where have you been every other night? If you don’t make eyes with your waiter, you spend the rest of the day moping around. Now go. Get some of that boy's chocolate chip cookies. Or maybe give him some of yours.”

She wanted to argue, say that there was no way she could do that, but one look from Jones left her knees shaking and her mind reeling. If he asked for her cookies she would have no problems giving them. Besides, there were some juicy files in her hand that were just begging to be read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me @tory-b on tumblr. I don't bite! (Unlike Jughead)


	3. Interview With a Vampire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our favorite Blossom arrives at last! Hope you all enjoy this chapter (as well as the episode on tonight!) I've been really inspired lately so I've just been cranking out content. Hope you guys don't mind.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @tory-b

When Cheryl Blossom walked into his cafe like death itself, Jughead let out a frustrated groan he knew the single staff member currently helping him set up could hear. The Blossoms were in charge of the underground vampire community of the great state of New York. You registered with them, attended monthly meetings (that he hated), and if something went wrong you answered to them. Usually that meant a bath of silver and a stake through the heart once they’d finished the interrogation.

“Cheryl. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of discontinuing his busy work. There were chocolate mint chip cookies he needed to get done before opening.

“Shoo, gremlin,” her delicately manicured hand waved at the college employee, “Go take fifteen or something. Your boss and I have important business things to handle.”

He looked towards his boss, eyes showing gratitude when Jughead waved him off. Once the door to the employee only lounge was securely shut, he turned towards the princess in front of him. 

“Next time, don’t be mean to my staff. There are only so many kids willing to work graveyards at some shitty coffee establishment in Greenwich. I can’t afford to have you scare them off every time you walk in looking like you jumped off the pages of an Anne Rice novel.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. She was an old vampire, older than him certainly. The early 1900s hadn’t been kind to him, and in some ways he owed her his life, a fact that would never be lifted from over his head. He owed the Blossoms a debt, which is why he spent so long in their territory. Most vampires tended to skip town after a few decades, to avoid suspicion, but no one paid much mind to a grumpy shop owner. Most of his cliental was transient. Anyone who got suspicious was senile and easily fooled in claiming he was the great-great-grandson of the man they were thinking of.

“Please darling, I know I’m the inspiration for your latest murder mystery,” she pulled the hard bound book off the self. “JP Jones? Really? Might as well have put Jughead, it’s just as obvious,  _ Forsythe. _ ”

He was starting to get annoyed. “Seriously, why are you here other than to harass me? I paid my re-registration fee last month. I even went to the stupid class you had about inconspicuous blood letting. Even though I get all my blood from a Blossom approved source.”

Suddenly, her demeanor shifted. This wasn’t a ring-around of insults anymore, and for a brief moment, Jughead Jones felt fear.

“Listen. I’m sure you’ve heard all about this Bleeding Beauty shit that’s been happening. Well, mother and father suspect it to be a vampire. Given the evidence, I can’t imagine how it would be anything else. Funny thing though, all these murderers are happening around your neck of the woods. Coincidence?”

The cookies nearly clattered to the ground. There had never been a shortage of bad blood between Jughead and authority, but to be insinuated in a series of murders? That was a new one. With a disgruntled noise, he slid the tray into the oven.

“Never thought you’d suspect me in a murder investigation. Tall, young, and ginger isn’t exactly my type. It’s yours.”

Blossom red. They were notorious for their hair color, a trait that many suspected to be a result of years of inbreeding before, in a story that had never officially come to light, the entire family was turned in the beds of the Celtic Castle. Whatever moron had accomplished that didn’t know the plague they had unleashed upon the earth.

Despite being one of the oldest living vampire clans, they had their fair share of troubles. A few years ago the heir to the family fortune, Cheryl’s twin brother, Jason, had been murdered. At least that’s what was suspected. A body had yet to be found. In a community as tight knit as the vampire underground, there were bound to be rumors. Clifford had killed his son in cold blood, there was a vampire hunter stalking the streets of New York City, and other such ridiculous ideas that would be better suited for one of his novels than a real life conspiracy.

However, his disappearance was something Cheryl was quite prickly about. Even the mention of her brother could send the poor girl spinning into days of despair. They had been close, almost unnervingly so. But that wasn’t his place to judge.

“I’m not the one suspecting you Donnie Darko,” she rolled her eyes and plucked one of the pastries from his trays. All the satisfaction of a sweet without any of the calories. The upsides to their undead status. “But there are others who are. So stay on the lookout. Daddy’s assigned me to track down the killer so we can bring them in and give a few reminders about what’s not to be done in our territory. I expect your full cooperation, got it snaggletooth?”

“Actually it’s Jughead, but I think that’s the closest you’ve come to my name in years.”

With a scowl, she snatched another croissant. The bell rang, indicating his first customer of the night. When he looked up and saw none other than Betty Cooper, he couldn’t help but smile. She was a regular here already, not that he minded. Maybe it was his ego, having listened to her praising his literature in the first hour they’d met, but he liked having her around. And Jughead Jones liked having very few people around.

“Well it looks like someone actually likes your lame coffee. Tootles, Jones. And remember what I said. I’ll be back next week expecting a full report on anything you’ve found.”

Drama was a Cheryl Blossom speciality and she left with more than enough of that.

“So,” Betty asked, sitting on the bar stool on the opposite side of the counter, “Was that you're girlfriend?”

Jughead choked, a shiver running up and down his spine. “I would rather eat chunks of glass. And trust me when I say I’m not her type. You are.”

He could almost see her relax, and something inside him fluttered. Had Betty been jealous at the thought of him with another woman? Quickly, he shoved that thought aside. Even if that was within the realm of possibilities, she was completely off limits. Vampire and Human relationships ended in death for someone during the best of circumstances. Especially when she had absolutely no clue about the night stalkers inhabiting her city. No, it was better to keep someone like her far, far away from the action.

But it never hurt to flirt a little.

Before she could even ask, he had her usual coffee order set in front of her. She offered him a kind smile and took a sip. “Seriously, I don’t know where you’re smuggling your beans from, but I need your suppliers number.”

Jughead laughed, “Sorry, no can do. If I give away my recipes I’ll have no customers left. You’re way cuter than I am.”

There was a faint blush on her cheeks, and it made him smile. Flirting had never been one of his strong suits, but after nearly a century of practice he was getting better.

“I also,” he continued, pointing towards the oven, “Made something special. I need a taste tester. Would you do the honors for me, Betty Cooper? They’re chocolate cookies with mint chip. Figured I’d spice things up from my regular walnut today.”

“Oh, a dangerous man living on the cookie edge. You’ll be a real catch for a lucky girl.” Maybe she shouldn’t have been so forward, prodding in hopes of learning anything about his love life. Sure, Cheryl, the beautiful but terrifying red head, wasn’t his girlfriend, but someone else could be.

“I’ll let you know if that ever happens. I’m currently very single. Busy with the shop and everything. Since this place is open nights, most people’s schedules don’t really mesh well with mine for the whole dating scene.”

Spinning back around to face the oven, he slipped on his green spotted oven mitts. Betty had bought them as a surprise for him: a thank you for giving her the book. He’d been so taken aback by the gesture, making a few jokes about how polka dots weren’t his usual choice of pattern, but there wasn’t a day she hadn’t seen him wear them.

Truthfully, Jughead had been single for a very, very long time. His last relationship had ended in an unfortunate spell sticking him with a bloodthirsty appetite and fangs where his canines were. Never date a witch, his father had warned. If only he had known how literal his words would become.

Betty waited patiently for the cookies to cool, browsing the files she had managed to collected on the Bleeding Beauty Killer. There wasn’t heaps of information to go on, and if there was a way to get more it meant finding an in with the police department. Veronica had mentioned an ex boyfriend that worked on the force, but their on again and off again relationship likely wouldn’t be of much use. Maybe her mother would be able to help? Alice Cooper certainly had more years of experience up her sleeves, though the woman’s means were not always the cleanest.

“What are you reading so intently?” Jughead asked, setting the plate in front of her.

The delicious smell distracted her for a moment, unable to keep her hands of the sweets. One the first bite began to melt, her taste buds erupted in a joyful dance, proclaiming over and over that this was the single best cookie she had ever had. She was inclined to agree with the little guys.

“Stuff for my article. I finally got a chance to swing into the crime beat, Jug!” she beamed up at him, showing him one of the files. “Bleeding Beauty case. I have to make this a stand out piece if I want to keep going.”

Something in his eyes flickered. It was almost dangerous.

“That’s pretty exciting Betts just...promise me you’ll be careful? New York isn’t the safest place around.”

“Thank you, but I promise I’ll be fine. I’m a lot tougher than I look,” she offered him a smile, trying to calm his nerves.

Jughead shook his head, a playful smirk on his lips. “That, I don’t doubt. Just...here,” he pulled out a napkin from the counter and scribbled across it. “My number. If something happens or you just need someone to bounce case ideas off of just call. One of my best friends is an officer, so I might be able to let you root around in his head for a bit one day too.”

This was a bad idea. That he was certain of. But the way her face lit up as she tucked the paper into her back pocket made it really hard to see it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...who do we think Veronica's police officer ex boyfriend is? Is Jughead responsible for the murders or is it someone else? Who turned Jughead into a vampire? I want to hear all your theories!


	4. A Study in Scarlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you so so much to my amazing beta [QueenofBabble](http://queenofbabble.tumblr.com/) Her notes always make me laugh. To give you a hint, a lot of the notes on this one were "that's gay" in reference to Cheryl, who is, as always when I write her, very gay.
> 
> A lot of your theories were really interesting so I'm always always looking to hear more!
> 
> Don't forget to come hang out with me on tumblr. I'm [Tory-b](http://tory-b.tumblr.com/)

When Veronica Lodge got ahold of the news that the cute coffee shop man had given her best friend his number, she screamed. Loud enough that the entire subway car glowered at her. This, did not even faze the heiress. Once she got her claws into something, very little could dissuade her from her excitement.

“I knew it,” she proclaimed as they walked down the busy New York street. “I knew he was going to ask you out. It was so obvious you know? I mean I’ve never seen you around him, but whenever you come home before the crack of dawn I can see you wide eyed and smitten over him. It’s adorable. When you go on your date with him, tell him that the cookies he made were to die for. I want a million of them next time.”

Betty rolled her eyes and had to make a conscious effort to not purposefully lose her friend in the crowd. Ever since he’d handed her the folded up napkin, she’d been trying her best not to get her hopes up about this. She hadn’t even texted him. But the weight of his number in her phone was enough to turn her fair cheeks red.

Upon entering the office, Betty was greeted to a face she never thought she’d see again, much less outside of the four walls of The Apothecary. Cheryl Blossom, the red head who came and went like a tornado was sitting right on Betty Cooper’s desk. Between her long red nails she twisted the nameplate, something that felt vaguely threatening and she wasn’t sure why.

“If I hadn’t sworn off red heads after Archie I would be putting on my killer Lodge smile and flirting my way to a phone number. But as it stands, why is there a bombshell sitting on your desk?”

Honestly, she didn’t know. Cheryl and her hadn’t even spoken when they’d first stumbled upon each other in Jughead’s cafe. There had been a moment of jealousy when she’d seen the woman leaning across the bar and exchanging whispers with the owner, but since that Cheryl hadn’t even crossed her mind. And now she was across her files.

“I have absolute no idea,” but before she could ask what exactly was going on, the redhead had spotted her. The look in her eyes sent a shiver up Betty’s spine and she had to fight her flight reflex from kicking in.

“You,” she pointed, “You’re the one who was flirting with Frankenstein’s monster. And no, don’t deny it. I was watching you two eye fuck each other from the moment you set foot into his drab little shop. He always was into Hitchcock blondes.” 

“I told you he was into you!” Veronica beamed from next to her, radiating a smug sort of satisfaction.

The eyes Miss Blossom gave her friend were that of a predator. Someone who was ready and willing to go for the jugular. Had she been anyone else, Betty might have feared for her best friend’s life.

“Astute observation from preppy Wednesday Addams. Now listen, Cooper. I don’t actually care what sort of shenanigans you’re getting up to with Jughead Jones of all people. That’s not what I’m here about. You’re writing the articles about that serial killer. This modern day Jack the Ripper is way more serious than you think. So you need to watch your back and be careful. I left my phone number on your desk and if you get into trouble, make the right call. Me, not the hobo you’ve got a hard-on for,” her eyes travel back to Veronica, “You can have it too gorgeous.”

Her words are cold, harsh, lingering in Betty’s ears like the after effects of a blaring alarm. Racing heart, shaky palms, nails digging into her skin to help her breath, and she’s back to her body, standing tall and strong. Whoever this girl is, she won’t allow herself to quake in fear. She spent her entire childhood doing that with Alice, and she would be damned if she did it again.

“Is that a threat Cheryl?”

“No,” they were unbelievably close now. The fire that burned in the redhead’s eyes nearly scorched Betty. “It’s a warning. If it were a threat my claws would already be in your eyes.”

Like a walking stage production, Cheryl turned on her Prada heels and left. The office immediately resumed its activities, buzzing with the latest chatter about deadlines, the news, and how the coffee machine on the second floor was broken again because someone had been putting coffee beans instead of coffee grounds in the filter. Had it not been for Veronica’s presence, Betty would have thought the entire exchange was nothing short of a nightmare conjured by the jealousy demons that had been living in her chest since last night.

“So are you going to call her?” the Lodge woman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Betty didn’t answer, grabbing her phone from her purse and turning to head outside. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Unfortunately for her, the only part of the building that got signal was outside where the smokers hung around. Bitter, toxic clouds loitered longer than the actual addicts. She fanned the area around her, hoping to clear the air enough to make it somewhat bearable. Nearly white knuckling her phone, she punched in Jughead’s name.

The phone rang once, twice. She mentally cursed herself. The man ran a graveyard business. Even if he answered the phone, it was more likely he’d be the living dead so early in the day. To her surprise, the fourth ring was followed by a click and the familiar drum of his voice.

“Jughead Jones speaking.”

Betty let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “Hi Jug, I’m sorry to bother you, especially when it’s so early, but it’s Betty.”

The man on the other side yawned. “Oh hey Betts, what’s up?” His voice didn’t sound as groggy as she had expected.

“Cheryl came by my office and threatened me about my story.”

“She fucking what?” Jughead gave an exasperated noise, “God just ignore her okay? She likes to cause chaos. It’s like she’s some sort of witch who gets her power from making people quiver in fear, and trust me I’ve known a few, they’ve never been good. I’ll talk to her about coming into places with out an invitation even though she should know better.”

Betty smiled. He seemed frazzled, but there was something endearing about it. “It’s okay. At least I had a reason to call you.”

He fumbled over his words for a moment, before finally answering. “I-yeah. Right. Listen, I asked my friend I told you about for some information about the Killer. We could maybe meet up for lunch somewhere and I’ll give it to you? I know this really nice place and I’ll text you the details?”

“Sure! That sounds really great. It’s a date,” she blushed and quickly worked to cover herself. “Well not a date date just a-”

“A time and place that is on a calendar date. I get it.”

“Exactly! I’ll see you then. Bye.”

Jughead groaned and flopped on the couch of his apartment. Calendar date. Of course he had to put his foot in his mouth and sound like the definition of an idiot. After so many years on this earth, one would assume he would be better with people. That person had assumed wrong and likely lost a bet about it.

“That was the fakest yawn I’ve ever heard in my entire life dude,” his roommate, Archie Andrews, a police officer who desperately wanted to be the newest John Mayer, raised an eyebrow at him over a bowl of nearly soggy cheerios.

“Shut up Andrews,” Jughead runs a hand through his curls, “You try yawning when you don’t sleep. She was right. If I was a human I would be fucking exhausted from a 9 AM phone call.”

“Speaking of phone calls, who's the date with. The whole time I’ve known you, you haven’t exactly been one to go out.”

Archie was a special case in the vampire community: a human who was dumb enough to stumble upon the underground without getting turned or murdered. That had been the fault of his now roommate, who had saved him either at the hands of a greedy new turn who wanted to taste an orange flavored snack. In an act that had been surprising at the time, but now made sense after three years of friendship, Archie had exclaimed that he ‘knew vampires existed all along’.

The guy was a good police officer. Kind, compassionate, with a moral compass that always pointed due north. Things like that made him near the exact opposite of his vampire counterpart. Jughead much preferred to live in a world painted in moral grays.

“Yeah, because when you get your food delivered in bags from a flamboyant nurse named Kevin women don’t exactly flock to you. We can’t all be shredded officers of the law who play guitar on the weekends.”

His fangs popped, sinking into the packet in his hand. It was hard to explain the taste variance when it came to blood. All of it was vaguely metallic, but anything negative was just a bit sweeter. Archie had offered to be a home donor, but once they’d discovered the awkward horniness that often accompanied a feeding like that, the entire experienced had been shoved under the rug and a vow of silence was sworn.

“Ronnie used to be turned on by biting. Maybe you can call her up. I obviously wasn’t satisfying enough.” There was something bitter still in the air regarding Archie’s latest relationship downfall. At the beginning, he had sworn she was the one. Now, even a few months after it had ended, he seemed like a love sick puppy who had been kicked by its owner.

He rubbed his redheaded friend’s shoulder gently, pulling his teeth from the silver package. “Don’t worry. You’ll get her back. You two were crazy about each other. It was a stupid misunderstanding and she’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Anyone ever tell you that with teeth covered in blood you aren’t super comforting dude,” the laughter on his tongue gave him away though. “Don’t worry about me. Have fun on your lunch date. I’d bring her flowers.”

Jughead rolled his eyes, but it didn’t stop him from picking up a bouquet of lilies on the way to the restaurant.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at http://tory-b.tumblr.com/  
> I take requests and I'd really love some bughead requests sent my way!


End file.
